My Little Pony: Trysts & Fantasies
by the-lionness
Summary: Ficclets of the Mane 6 and other characters, both fantasies and reality. AU. HUMAN.
1. Dreams

**Carnal Fantasies**

Ficclets of our favorite Mane 6, both fantasies and reality. AU. HUMAN.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my computer and an imagination.

_Dreams (of f**kin a Wonderbolt)_

Now, it was no secret to anyone that Rainbow Dash had a..._thing_ for The Wonderbolts: that she liked them; that she talked about them; that she admired them; that they were her heros; that she practically worshipped them. They were the best fliers in all of Equestria (minus her, of course); they did the some of the coolest tricks, moves that took her hours, if not days, to perfect; and she wasn't as fashion-minded or girly as Rarity, but she could never deny the fact they had the coolest suits and uniforms _ever_. If a Wonderbolt ever came up to her on the street and asked her to join them, omigosh, she'd drop just about everything and join them in a heartbeat—or less than a heartbeat because she would have accepted before the question had been fully asked.

So...it made sense that The Wonderbolts were the ones she thought about whenever she was...

…_y'know_

…When she was..._feeling_...

_Sigh_

—When she was horny, okay?!

It wasn't like she had always thought about them. No—in the beginning, she had always focused solely on herself. Her body: the way her body would get warm underneath her covers; the way her nipples would get hard and rub against and poke through the fabric of her running bra; the feeling of her fingers in her wet folds, probing inside of her. There was something about the way her multi-hued hair clung to her lightly sun-kissed ans sweaty skin; and the way her toes curled and her body shook and her thoughts fizzled when she finally reached her climax with a little squeal. She had self-confidence to spare, but seemed to love herself more in the afterglow of fingering herself, when her scent was on her own fingers and she felt her own sticky juices running down her thighs.

But one night, simply fingering herself wasn't working. An hour had been spent tossing and turning in bed, making her sheets wet with sweat and kicking away her blankets and pillows for cool air. And it was annoying because she wasn't really doing anything she hadn't done before, but nothing she was doing was working and she couldn't stop because she was still horny—her body was practically begging for release.

She had no idea how she had calmed her frustrated thoughts. And she didn't know when she had finally decided that maybe thinking about being with someone would help her.

She only knew that the one that finally came to mind in her mental Rolodex of friends and acquaintances was a Wonderbolt.

Spitfire.

She had always thought two things when it came to the way she felt about Spitfire. First, she had thought she was envious of Spitfire. Which made sense because Spitfire was _totally_ living her dream life—performing in shows, being awesome in front of other people, getting claps and cheers and interviews where she talked about the hard work of herself and her comrades and how happy she felt about her hard work.

It didn't help that she believed that she and The Wonderbolt captain had the same body type—a small chest (although, Spitfire was probably a B-cup while she herself was an A-cup and proud of it); a flat plane of a stomach; hips and a perky butt; and long, toned legs. And then she thought she just liked Spitfire's style—the colors of her rockstar-coiffed hair, the smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles on her pale face, the noticeable color of her eyes, as well as the cool, graceful way she handled her fame like it wasn't a big deal.

But she had learned that night that that wasn't entirely true. After that night, she realized she was really...attracted to Spitfire.

_Spitfire had walked into her bedroom that night dressed in her Wonderbolt suit, stood at the edge of her bed, and slowly began stripping herself of her uniform, taking off her goggles and opening the front, the zipper practically giving as she pulled the tab down all the way—from her neck to her bellybutton. The Wonderbolt began peeling out of the light-blue-and-yellow outfit, and Rainbow Dash stared at the sight of her bare breasts and hard nipples. She wanted to say something, but Spitfire was already taking the rest of the outfit out, playing up the fabric stretching over her perky ass and toned legs. Rainbow Dash had imagined that this Spitfire wore no panties either. The hair between her legs was trimmed into a small, neat triangle; she smelled so good, like sunblock and lotion and maybe some type of perfume._

_The smile she wore was smug and made her orange-yellow eyes crinkle. _

_Spitfire climbed over Rainbow Dash's body languidly, finally stopping as she came eye-to-eye with her. Her light-colored nipples rubbed against Rainbow's pink ones, and her lips and fingers pressed themselves against Rainbow Dash's, swiping along her body lips and making soft sounds as she pulled her mouth away. A path was being kissed down her body between her small breasts and down her stomach. Those eyes of Spitfire's kept taking quick glances up at her, checking to see if she liked what was happening, her fingers following down the side, rolling her nipples and running down her hip tattoo, the cloud and multi-colored lighting bolt. Rainbow Dash's hands were touching and exploring as well, touching and rubbing small circles in the back of Spitfire's thighs and trailing lazily above the curve of her ass, right where the dimples in the small of her back were. _

"_Ahhh..."_

_Rainbow had moaned when she imagined Spitfire parting her folds and slipping her finger inside. Her rhythm was tantalizingly slow...in and out, in and out, in and out, again and again, twisting inside of her, hitting her walls, making her wet and her toes clench tight. _

"_Ahh...oh, Celestia..."_

_The second moan was even louder as she felt Make-believe Spitfire find her clit and gently but firmly rub her thumb against the swollen, sensitive nub. It, the imagined tryst and Rainbow Dash's own ministrations, felt like it would never end. And when it finally, disappointedly did come to its end, the pleasure bubbled up her entire body, into her very brain, and exploded. It was like her entire body and even her mind had had a Sonic Rainboom, one that was just as amazing and enjoyable as the ones she did in the sky. _

Coming down from her climax was almost a type of labor in and of itself, and Rainbow Dash spent a few more minutes basking in the glory of afterglow before finally going to sleep.

But when she had woken up...

When she had woken up feeling warm and wanting again, she had grabbed her pillow—the one that was fuzzy one side and kinda knitted on the other—in a moment of inspiration and need and mounted it, this time imagining herself being in control. She imagined herself doing all the things she had liked before reaching Make-believe Spitfire's slit and rubbing her mound directly on Make-believe Spitfire, sliding up and down, clit to clit. She worked up her sweat and juices once more and imagined The Wonderbolt captain was beneath her, unwilling to fight against the pleasure they shared, her nipples hard as pearls.

That feeling she had gotten from the night before, that sort of tingly feeling, let her know she was close and she unclenched her bedsheets, digging her fingers in her hair and letting sweat trickle down her back. That second time had been even better than the first, her finally finding an angle that brought her and her imagined lover to another climax, one that was even stronger and made her throw her head back and her back arch and her body convulse.

Rainbow Dash hadn't even minded having to wash her pillow and bedsheets that day.

Spitfire became the star in a lot of Rainbow's fantasies, the reason why Rainbow Dash rubbed herself against her pillows and once just to be different, on the edge of her bed, her panties a thin, cotton barrier between patterned stars and her slit. And in real life, Rainbow Dash's admiration for Spitfire grew more...Her making Spitfire her Number One Favorite Wonderbolt was practically universal law.

...that was, until she realized a few months later that mounting her pillow and Make-believe Spitfire weren't cutting it very much anymore. She had no idea how that happened and she didn't want to think about why. It was torture. Nights spent unable to be fully satisfied with her imagination and fingers in spite all the scenarios she imagined that included Spitfire's feminine, athletic body. And any sexual thoughts towards the other female Wonderbolts, regardless of their bodies, were moot; she already felt like she was just as qualified if not more qualified than half of them; she couldn't imagine them being with her. They were so lame...

That was about the time she noticed that in one of the pictures from The Wonderbolts' latest photoshoot in one of Rarity's fashion magazines, Soarin had a very noticeable..._bulge_ in the pair of athletic shorts he wore, and the gears in her head started clicking again.

Soarin...The one that handled flying in the air better than Soarin. Twenty-two, with thick, black hair that remained perfectly disheveled and was constantly combed back with his fingers, with a weak spot for the Apple Family's signature apple pies that could only be compensated with intense exercise—stretches, five mile runs, boxing, weights. And a god-like body he didn't mind flaunting in magazine spreads, the tattoo that all the inductees got when they finished their first performance, the lighting bolt and wings spread out across his back.

The first fantasy she had had about him was when she emerged from the shower, tired from a pretty exhausting day of weather control. One minute she was just lying in bed and refusing to get up and head over to the kitchen to explore her fridge for dinner, and then the next thing she knew, she was imagining him emerging from her bathroom and walking over to her, still wet and already getting big, his cock twitching with need, ready to please her.

_His hands had their way across her skin as he rubbed her thighs and stomach. She twisted at the waist to give him better access and her tongue and teeth worried her bottom lip, imagining Soarin biting her lip and swiping the skin with his tongue. She imagined him being forceful and she loved it. Everything he did—sliding his tongue on her neck and chest, sucking and giving small bits on her nipples. She liked that he didn't look to see if she was enjoying herself; when he wanted her to turn her head and open her legs, she imagined that he just did so—that he just knew that everything he was doing was the right thing, especially when she ran her fingers through his dark hair. _

_But nothing compared to when he slid down between her legs, blew hot air on her spot, and ate her out, licking her folds, sucking her clit. Eating all that pie had certainly taught him to pace himself because he never really came up for air and for the moments he did, he used his gasping breath to tease her again. He didn't give her any time to rest and she loved every second of it._

_She came so hard another mental Sonic Boom. _

_With Make-believe Spitfire, she was always satisfied with cumming once, but she realized for Make-believe Soarin, one time wasn't really enough. Her newly-imagined lover sat on the edge of her bed, licking her juices from those full lips of his and rubbing his length, ready to be pleased as well, ready to be in between her legs. _

_She rolled unto her stomach and used her middle finger to better imagine him pushing the tip of his erection inside her and making his way inside her slowly, and then almost fully pulling out again, creating the best type of friction inside of her body and increasing his speed only to stave off, making her want him to finish and make her feel good. _

_She came for a second time, hearing her voice rise and blend into its own harmony. She felt herself quiver as she slipped her fingers out and after a moment of contemplation, tasted herself, imagining Soarin enjoying the show as he tried catching his breath and disappeared. _

...There really wasn't anything else she could do except pick herself up and head back to her bathroom.

She went out and snuck around Ponyville, buying herself a vibrator the next day.

And from then on, her dreams alternated between Soarin and Spitfire. They had their own purposes: when she wanted to be loved slowly or be dominant, she usually went for Spitfire; and when she didn't want to feel girly, when she _really_ wanted to feel like she was having fun, a harmless rut, Soarin was her Wonderbolt of choice. Sometimes one would start off and then the other would come in with her change and thoughts and finish her off. She'd gotten pretty flexible for whenever she used her toy, twisting into different positions on her bed. And pretty creative when her fingers were concerned, sometimes just taking off her blue running shorts and sweat-dampened panties and fingering herself on a counter in the kitchen or bathtub or even on the stairs and hallway outside her room, biting her lip and loving the feeling of sweat trickling from down the nape her neck to her back and her own juices running down her thighs.

...But like always, it eventually just wasn't enough. And what was worse, since she had used the same tricks _so_ many times, they really weren't satisfying her anymore.

But she couldn't just let them go and even though she had tried, the other Wonderbolts just weren't amazing enough to be worthy of her fantasies. She could have always gone back to what she had been doing before everything had started, but she didn't want to.

Or maybe...maybe...

Maybe she was just ready to share fantasies with more than one Wonderbolt now...

_And then there they were, on the edge of her bed and naked, Spitfire crawling towards her and Soarin hanging back and watching, his hand already rubbing on his cock._

_Make-believe Spitfire didn't waste time with foreplay—she just parted Rainbow Dash's lips and began playing with her, her fingers rubbing against her pink folds and playing with her clit. The Wonderbolt captain smiled as Rainbow Dash began to moan and her breathing quickened with tiny gasps. _

"_Eat her." Soarin's husky voice said. That was the first time either of them had ever spoken. _

_Spitfire complied, her tongue lapping at Rainbow Dash's juices and tracing around her clit. Her technique was amateurish in comparison to Soarin's with plenty of breaks to catch her breath and disappointed squeaks from her lover's mouth. _

"_You have to finger her when you're not eating her." Soarin offered helpfully._

_A digit slid its way inside of her. But if that wasn't enough: another joined the first, stretching her opening._

_Rainbow Dash relaxed her body to accommodate this new thing, sighing as she felt her body adjust. Another unhappy sound came from her mouth as she felt the fingers leave. _

_Spitfire reared back, her chin glistening and her fingers rubbing together. "Do you want to, Soarin?"_

"_Not yet."_

"_Okay." Spitfire pushed Rainbow-Dash's legs open and half-crawled towards her, their bodies being pressed against each other once again. But like how Rainbow Dash imagined rubbing her clit against Spitfire's, the favor was returned, The Wonderbolt creating that wonderful feeling of friction in spite Rainbow Dash's hands in her hair._

"_Please...no..ah! Ahhhh...right there."_

"_Which one, ahh, is it, Rainbow Dash? Stop or go?"_

_It didn't matter; Rainbow Dash came about ten seconds later, her back arching and her body shaking so hard and a Sonic Rainboom within a Sonic Rainboom._

She wanted to open her eyes, to let this fantasy go until next time, but...But what about?

"_My turn." Make-believe Soarin neared the two, watching his imagined counterpart falling on top of Rainbow Dash once more and running his finger down her back. The tip of his erection rested between his captain's cheeks and sliding up and down, cum dribbling down the shaft on her back._

"_Soarin, it's too hot."_

"_...I'm trying to decide what to do first. You or her?"_

_The two gasped as they felt Soarin slide his cock between them and thrust his hips. The feeling of his skin slapping against their asses, the feeling of him coming in and out...she almost came again, but cut off her __peeking pleasure somehow._

"_I felt that. I guess you can be first, Rainbow Dash." _

_She moaned as she felt him enter her with ease and begin pumping in and out again. His thrusts were unpredictable, sometimes almost coming out only to slide back in, and other times quick thrusts._

_Spitfire had already begun to rub against her again._

_She watched Soarin's throw his head back as his pace increased. "She's clenching around me..." His teeth clenched together tightly._

"_You should see her face. You must feel really good."_

"_Omigosh."_

"_Rainbow Dash, you're really tight!"_

"_O...omigosh!"_

"_I'm cumming."_

_Her moans rose an octave. "Me too! I'm, I'm...you're making me...ahhhhhh!"_

_The imagined figures of Spitfire and Soarin faded away in lieu of the familiar halo of color in her mind. But it wasn't a flat-out explosion. It was more like implosion and then an explosion. Or firecrackers in the midst of their finale._

Her breathing heavy and the apex of her legs wetter than she had ever felt before, Rainbow Dash opened her eyes to the ceiling of her room and took her fingers out. She wished she could go bald for a few hours; her hair felt wet with sweat and heavy.

"Oh...sweet...Celestia," she sighed. "That felt so...good. They really are the best."

–

_So, I don't have it in me to write any of the characters as ponies, but maybe I will one day. Until then, they're human._

_This is the first time I've ever written something that has girl on girl or a threesome and they were the most challenging part, but I feel like Rainbow Dash, as a character, would imagine both without giving a second thought to convention. Plus, there are more females in MLP:FiM than males, so she's gotta work with who's there._

_Soarin was a bit OOC and I guess that's because I made him dominant to Rainbow Dash._


	2. Nudity

**My Little Pony: Trysts & Fantasies**

Ficclets of our favorite Mane 6, both fantasies and reality. AU. HUMAN.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my computer and an imagination.

* * *

_The Clothes Debate_

Rarity didn't want to have the lifestyle of the rich and famous. She had a feeling everyone thought that, even her own family and best friends. But honestly, her constantly-voiced dreams to marry a prince were because she was a romantic at heart and nothing else.

So, no, money wasn't exactly the point in her being a designer. While filling out orders for clients and participating in fashion events and even doing interviews were very important in expanding her business and even exciting to read about later, those things were ranked a few notches lower to be truly creative and immersed in an industry that she had always been fascinated with since childhood and having those that sought her out love her thoughts and ideas.

Staying in Canterlot and meeting Fancypants for that brief moment the year before had changed that, but not by much—or rather, not in the way she had guessed it would. His praises when they had met early on, while part of her had thought he had been saying them to tease her, had been beneficial. She was in high enough demand that announcing her newest fashion venture earlier that summer had led to her phone ringing at almost all hours, an increase of visitors traveling from places like Canterlot and Manehattan, and even having to take trips to other cities for house calls—all on her clients' tab.

And invitations to private parties...

Private parties hosted by the crème de la crème of Canterlot high society...

The first one she had ever been to was a pool party, a truly last minute thing that she was considering backing out of.

_"But you have to come!" Her client Strawberry Sprinkles, a girl who clearly been initiated into Canterlot high society by chance, in her case, as a girlfriend-turn-fiance to Pomp N. Circumstance, a man twenty years older than her had whined."It's party season and Pomp just put in a new lagoon. Lookatit!" She pointed to the hybrid between a rock and a slide that led into a pool constructed to look like a lake and the umbrella-tables and tropical fauna that framed the whole display. "I bet you haven't even been to a Canterlot party yet this season!"_

_"Well, yes I have seen it and no, I haven't, but that's because I live in Ponyville—I couldn't possibly stop working and travel here attend a party."_

_"But you're here now already, working for me, and I'm having a private party and I'm asking you to come—treat it like...it's part of your work. ...If you came, you'd meet more people—more clients. Clients who love the latest thing and would gladly pay a lot of money for one of your outfits."_

_"Ensembles."_

_"Ensembles." Strawberry Sprinkles corrected herself with a sweet smile. "You'd get so much work. You could charge them more. You'd probably have to actually turn some of them away."_

It had been too tempting, the idea of having that kind of business, that opportunity and possibility of being worn by everyone who was anyone in Canterlot for an entire season. Needless to say, she had agreed right after that.

But about an hour later when she had emerged from the house in a borrowed tribal-patterned two-piece swimsuit that played up the best parts of the Celestia-given, model-esque body she worked hard to maintain, her long legs and delicate shoulders, the curves of her hips and smallish but perky breasts, she had almost wished she had turned it down after all.

She was used to nudity in what she deemed as being expected, appropriate situations—alone in her shower, alone in her room when she changed, the backstage areas of fashion shows where models had to change in record time. But as open-minded and cosmopolitan as she thought she was, she was just...thrown off by the fact that she was suddenly staring at a backyard full of completely naked people. She had never thought she was capable of turning as pink-faced and meek as Fluttershy, having to be dragged around by Strawberry Sprinkles whose grabbing of Rarity's arm and pressing against her own body made sure she knew that her boobs were indeed silicone-enhanced. Three hours of pointedly staring above people collarbones to avoid any sightly looks at various _things_ of various..._sizes_ and wrinkles and stretchmarks or incision scars, staying away from the hot dogs and the pool, two things she had actually been looking forward to.

Rarity went back to her hotel room that night and with her back turned her back to the mirror got ready for bed and wondering why in Celestia's name did she stay there for so long burning those types of images in her head? What had she to gain really? It wasn't until she had actually turn off her light and tried falling asleep that she had come up with an answer:

Satisfaction.

She remembered what it had been like her first time in Canterlot, having to endure the teasing of Jet Set and Upper Crust and the psuedo-demure, judgmental stares of others like them. Those stares as if _they_ were better than _her_ because of where they lived and their socioeconomic standing. And now she knew something about them, something weird and outside of the rules of conformity they always seemed to try to hold above her head.

The next time she was in Canterlot and had been invited to another private party at someone's cliffside estate, she had arrived in a form-fitting , one-shoulder little black dress, standing out once more in a sea of people without clothing. And she had been proud of her newest effort, the fabric and cut and the elongated appearance of her neck until she realized that she was once again being subjected to the harsh stares and whispers of the other party guests. About the only ones not starting at her like she'd grown a second head were the servers walking around. It seemed to be the most noticeable thing in the room, the finger food and music not even on the list.

But she was handling herself well, given what she was forcing herself to endure. That was, until she had tried heading into the bathroom and wandered in another room.

She had no idea what she was looking at. Well actually...she did. There was no mistaking the sight of bodies grinding on one another and the women's jewelry catching the low lamplight, the sounds of moaning and skin slapping, and the smell of sex and overworked perfume and cologne in the air. And she wasn't imagining the sight of one of the men beckoning her inside to join their...orgy.

To say she had slammed the door was an understatement.

If she thought that looking red in the face had been too prudish the first time, she was fire engine red and, again, unprepared for who she saw now:

Fancypants, champagne glass in hand and completely naked like everyone else at the party, save for a bowtie.

_"...Rarity from Ponyville?"_ She felt him touch her wrist and guide her towards a better-lit area in the white-carpeted hallway. _ "Rarity, it is you!"_ He was as handsome and completely comfortable in this element: champagne glass in hand, mirthful in the face with his lips in a smirk, toned in the body, and...endowed below the waist. _"I must say I'm surprised to see you here. How did you hear about this party?"_

She freed herself from his grasp._ "F-f-Fancypants...? How, how, how did you hear about this party?!"_

_"This is my property, er...home. And I'm hosting this party."_

_"Y, Y, You're behind this...and what those people are doing in that room?!" She watched as he walked over to said room, opened the door, and then closed it again as if what was going on was no big deal. "...You're not going to say anything."_

_"I never really plan to allow those things to happen in all my rooms, but it's nothing that can't be fixed in the morning."_

_"Rooms?!"_ She gaped at him like a fish with red lipstick for three seconds before turning on her heel and walking away from Fancypants and out of his party like a bat out of hell that was very baffled and confused, but also very concerned with her hair bun coming undone and her heel become broken from running. She went into her carriage without a word and didn't look back, save the seconds after her carriage peeled off.

She swore she saw Fancypants staring at her from the opened doorway, taking thoughtful sips from his glass before walking back inside.

She hadn't expected the call from his estate asking her to be a guest for lunch. And she when she had arrived, dressed in another new creation, an orange pantsuit and green sea-shell patterned dress shirt with matching orange heels, she was almost surprised that he was dressed as well—crisp white shirt, black slacks, and multi-colored polka-dot tie.

It was a three-course meal, starting with a salad as an appetizer. She was very invested in the first few bites, more than halfway finished by the time he finally, gratefully spoke.

_"I was honestly and truly surprised to see you at my party last night. A very small amount of people were actually invited and while I expect a few party crashers, sometimes I'm blown away by who actually shows up. Especially if they are newcomers."_

She put down the forkful of salad she had poised to pass her lips. _"I guess that's because I'm 'charmingly rustic'."_

_"Yes,"_ he laughed,_ "but I don't believe I said that part like I would say 'country bumpkin'; those are two phrases that are unworthy of comparison...and you're certainly not the latter. ...The type of party you walked into last night started off as a joke. There was a bet made at a party earlier this year and it had been required that the losers were to spend the rest of the night in the nude. Everyone that attended that party...they were good friends; the fun was harmless enough that when it happened again, it wasn't questioned by the right people. Unfortunately, there were more people in attendance to witness...and I suppose that because it happened here, it's grown into a fad something people do to be in vogue or even possibly be comfortable."_

_"I know about dressing for comfort. I've seen people truly dress for comfort. While it's not my cup of tea, jeans and an old t-shirt works just as well."_

_"Can I tell you a secret? ...I rather enjoy being like that. Ironic, given my name and all...Sometimes, clothing can be restraining. I even think it helps me better enjoy the clothes that I do wear. Maybe you don't know because you're immersed in clothing and fashion, but surely you've had a moment when your clothes became too much and you wished you were at home so that you could take them off."_

She said nothing, only looked down at her own clothing.

_"...When are you leaving for Ponyville?"_

_"Tomorrow."_

_"...I hope that when you next come, you'll find yourself on my doorstep."_

"_Nude?"_

He laughed and paused and looked handsome in his ponderings. _"That is a loaded question...Nudity isn't required for those parties, truly. And I daresay I do host a few when clothes are needed for attendance. In the scenario that you're around and catch wind of me hosting another party, please try to come. ...Don't hide yourself from that unfamiliar sense of...expressionism."_ He speared another bit of his salad.

Rarity returned to Ponyville and normalcy—a normal Pinkie Pie "Welcome Back Rarity" party and days filled with completing orders and hanging out with her friends. And it wasn't that Fancypants' words had stuck with her, but during one night spent after a sudden and unmanageable heat wave, when the cool air of night wasn't exactly making its way into her stuffy room, she had found herself completely uncomfortable. She had traveled downstairs for a drink when for some odd reason, bending down to feel the cool breezes within made her notice the way the refrigerator light glowed off her skin. She didn't know _why_ Fancypants' words popped into her head or why all of a sudden she was unsatisfied with what she usually wore to bed, but suddenly she started...taking off her nightwear, her silky bathrobe and bra and panties. And it was a new feeling, sensation being unconstrained, the freezer air on her tit, and the womanly shape of her shadow across her kitchen floor. Even her walk back felt different, that feeling of her thighs rubbing on one another.

A few days later, she returned to Canterlot to fill out another order for Strawberry Sprinkles, and found herself invited to another party at Fancypants' place. No clothes.

She didn't even really think about it. She just walked into the bathroom and took off her dress and bra, deciding to spend the party in her panties, stockings, and heels...and then...

Changing her mind and going out in just her heels.

Somehow, in between shrugging that nervous feeling off, growing smug at the looks of envy and surprise, she had found Fancypants.

There was a brief moment of silence, but it broke with him giving her a pleased smile. She didn't know what it meant, but she allowed him to walk her around the party, introducing her to everyone that happened to anyone in the vicinity.

She realized that night, as she zipped up her dress and went to her waiting carriage, that she was part of the secret now.

And a few more parties later, she was more or less used to it, being dressed in nothing but the jewelry she had arrived with. She could even understand why it happened, why this group of people who insisted on being stiff and conservative threw away their self-imposed rules and traveled to the other side of the spectrum without judgement. She found herself admiring those who showed their less than perfect bodies, the ones with stretch marks and cellulite—not that she ever wanted to _be_ them, but because they wore what convention said were to be flaws proudly. And in the moments where the drank hit her body and her body became flushed, she could even understand Fancypants' words about clothes feeling good after not wearing them for a long time—she enjoyed the feeling of the lace fringes of her underwear and bra on her skin and the fabric of the outfits that played up her physical beauty. She enjoyed walking around with Fancypants whenever they found one another, and eventually finding a quiet place or a balcony and just feeling the breeze across her and having conversations with him. His touching her back wasn't something she turned away from; she rather..._enjoyed_ the warm imprint of his hand on her bare skin.

But as for the other thing she had seen...she had no idea of when that was something she had accepted as well.

She didn't want to believe that those moments, when a couple would begin to touch or kiss each other intimately and then walk into a particular room, or, in extreme cases, even begin to have sex against the wall or on an armchair in the midst of people watching and talking and laughing, had become somewhat normal for her, another aspect of the secret of the Canterlot's rich and famous behind closed doors.

No. It had been Fancypants.

She had wandered unto the wrong floor in hopes of finding a linen closet for a towel to help stop a fallen bottle of red wine from staining the carpet, only to come across a room of couples. This time around, it was hard to look away from the site of men and women honestly...fucking one another, calling out Celestia's name in pleasure and not really caring that she was intruding. In fact, she believed that one, a girl bouncing up and down on her partner's length with a smug smile and her fingers on her clit, enjoyed it.

A throat clearing only snapped her out of her thoughts momentarily, and she had looked over to see Fancypants standing beside her, staring at his guests in their little world of ecstasy, his own body as mesmerizing as the first time she had happened upon him, a perfect work of art—a lean frame and thin, curly hairs that started from his chest and traveled down past his bellybutton, a trimmed thatch of hair.

He had leaned past her to close the door, but he had paused and she had seen the passing glance from the orgy to her and her body. Like he was undressing her...or imagining them together, until he finally closed the door and led her away, his hand on the small of her back where her dimples were, the lowest place he had ever placed it.

It had been hard to ignore the fact that that look passed through her mind a thousand times a day upon her return home.

Maybe it was the possibility of her...and him that made Fancypants willing to invite her to his last party of the summer directly. And maybe it was the champagne she had drunk and excitement of Strawberry Sprinkles' game of Night-Time Hide-and-Seek that overpowered her cautious thoughts.

Her client stood in the middle of the foyer, underneath the large chandelier, holding a flashlight and a condom high in the air, happy to be the center of attention amongst Canterlot's finest. She was reveling in being watch and she put a little more jiggle in her augmented breasts to show it. _"What you do is...we turn off all the lights and everyone with a flashlight and a_ condom," she shook said flashlight in the air,_ "counts to sixty while everyone else hides. If you get caught by someone with a flashlight, you're their 'It', and well...what happens is for them to decide."_ Her smile turned coy. _"And if you start pairing up with a lot of people...well, it depends on what you all_ do." She grinned at the laughter and conversations that rose in the foyer._ "But, oh! There is a safety word though...it's uh, 'hippo'."_

Rarity hadn't done a good job of hiding but seemed to be overlooked by the few lights that passed by her. She had thought it strange until a beam of light trained itself on her shoulder.

_"Rarity."_

_"Fancypants."_

_"Yes, it is me...I've found you..."_ He sounded relieved or...glad. _"I__ suppose that means you're my It. And...I'm in charge of what we do from here."_ Seven meaningful words; his voice was so husky.

_"I suppose. So, what are we doing?"_

All around them, in the darkened estate, there were already sounds of moaning and giggling coming from various places on the floor. An occasional shriek or a chorus of laughter slashed through the relative silence, but it was mostly the sounds of pleasure and the sound of Rarity's heartbeat in her ears.

He didn't wait and ask if this was something she wanted...and she didn't say the safety word.

_"...Come with me."_

He had guided her into a room that strongly smelled like him and was illuminated by the moon—his bedroom.

He kissed her, his mouth pressing and meshing against hers and his fingers in her hair, making her glossy, curly locks disheveled. He scooped her up and laid her on his bed. Rarity felt the satin bedsheets against her skin and him getting comfortable above her, her body between his legs and his hands above her head and gripping his pillow.

Her hands explored his chest, fingers running through the fine patch of hair on his chest, rolling his nipples with her thumbs and kissing his neck and being kissed and touched in much the same way, his lips traveling over her skin. Her body, being without clothes and coursing with alcohol, felt electric at the feeling of the another body making contact with her. Her breath sounded heavy and wanting.

"_Hmm."_ He hummed and pulled away.

_"...What?"_

_"I'm just feeling something in my hand...a feather. From my pillow. It seems you've got me gripping rather tightly to my pillows."_

_"Oh."_

_"This is perfect."_

_"Oh? And how is it really?"_

And then she felt it being run across her chest lightly. It tickled a bit, and she giggled as she felt it circle around her aureole. And then she gasped as she felt his mouth around her other nipple. Every move the feather made, his mouth mirrored it, kissing underneath her breast, sliding his tongue across her nipple. And then his mouth and his toy switched places. He continued with this bit of activity, brushing the downy feather along her stomach until reaching below her waist.

She felt her position being shifted until she was on top and he was beneath her. He was erect and she felt it rub across her inner thigh.

He handed her the feather.

She ran it over his hairline down his temple and over his lips and chin. Her lips kissed his again, her tongue making its way into the cavern of his mouth. She passed the object over his Adam's Apple and down his chest, giving her attention to his nipples, pinching one and tickling the other. She shifted her body down as she reached his chest and stomach, feeling the tip of his burgeoning erection under her stomach and between her breasts as she settled on the floor.

He brought himself up a bit to watch her.

She ran the feather underneath his sack and let it travel upwards and back down a few times and circle around the tip before her hand took over, rubbing his slit and lightly ghosting her fingers over his shaft, finally taking it in hand and pumping up and down. It was hard and warm. She gave a small smile as she felt him getting wet. A small grin grew into a smile as she rubbed the feather underneath his balls and felt him buck against her and his pre-cum trail down a bit of sperm oozing down at the end. He was close to cumming.

_"Stop. ...Give me that feather back...please..."_ She complied. He brought her to her feet. _"Spread your legs a bit,"_ his hand traveled between in a bit to get her a stance that was steady. She moaned as she felt his fingers slip between her lips at one point, tapping against her opening. She watched as he slipped the feather between her legs and felt it rub up and down her thighs at few times, but then she felt him pass it against her slit, sweeping back and forth again and again.

Her hands gripped his shoulders.

Rarity should have been expecting his finger making its inside her as the feather rubbed around, at one point brushing against her clit.

_"You're already very wet."_

A moan escaped from her mouth.

_"I don't think we'll need anymore foreplay."_ He slid his finger out and turned away to fumble with the condom, putting the rubber over his length. He guided her to come closer, letting her fall back on to the bed and spreading her legs open. The air felt cool. He rubbed his erection across her slit, using her juices to wet his tip._ "...Are you ready?"_

_"Yes."_

A small moan escaped her lips as he found himself push inside. She wasn't a virgin, but it had been a...while since the last time intimacy with someone else had reached this point.

She heard him say something that sounded like "tight," between clenched teeth and then felt him pump in and out of her, his pelvis rubbing against hers and picking up speed, and his hands rubbing her body, trailing down her stomach.

Him filling her up...the feel of his skin and the places where his sweat was starting to gather...the sounds he made and how they blended with hers...his fingers in her hair. She loved it.

He thrusted into the deepest part of her, and they moaned. _"You're,"_ he thrusted again, a powerful one, and more moans came from their lips and blended together. She clenched around him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, to keep him closer to her. _"...I'm...cumming."_

His hips sped up _"Me...too..."_ He thrusted a few more time before stiffening.

She wasn't sure if she came first or if he did, but she felt herself go over the edge and felt him do the same in his condom. He seemed to gain a second wind, giving her a few more thrusts, and bringing her to a second climax before fully pulling out.

The sounds of them trying to catch their breath filled the sounds of the room.

She watched as he slipped the condom up, tie it and throw it in the trashcan beside her bed. He lifted the covers and settled the two of them underneath._ "How do you feel?...Rarity?"_

She felt...every inch of her nude body felt electric, protected in his bed with his naked body pressed against her own...

And she couldn't lie, not even when left Fancypants' home the next day and she returned to Ponyville, and went back to her routine and attended the parties where clothes were still the required state of dress and she wore hers to out-dress just about everyone else:

That feeling...that feeling of being naked and with Fancypants had been better than wearing clothes.

* * *

_So I feel like this had a really big build up—an explanation of Rarity's life, the parties, her relationship with Fancypants—but it was really good and I enjoyed writing it. Unlike Rainbow Dash, whose ficclet was largely imagined, this one was real._

_And it was originally supposed to be about Rarity finally having a solid one-up on all those people that teased her, but it sort of evolved into a debate between clothing and nudity, or, in a larger sense, freedom and conformity, which is awesome because as a clothing designer, Rarity has to balance those concepts all the time—i.e. "Should I make this and start a new trend, or stick to what's popular?"_

_I imagined the humanized Fancypants to be like Josh Hartnett. And the description of Rarity's outfit during her visit with Fancypants was inspired from a look from Solange Knowles' "Losing You" video._

_Don't ask me where that feather came from, though. _


	3. Apple Bucking Season

**My Little Pony: Tryst & Fantasies**

Ficclets of our favorite Mane 6, both fantasies and reality. AU. HUMAN.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my computer and an imagination.

* * *

**WARNING: INCESTEOUS SITUATION(S). PLEASE DON'T READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE.**

* * *

_Apple "Bucking" Season_

It was Applebuck Season, Applejack's favorite season on the farm. Four solid weeks of harvesting, shaking trees and picking apples. She was ready for this year. She was working the east side of the orchids by herself—easy as apple pie. The apples she would eat instead of putting in buckets to harvest would be sweet; the pies and cakes and applesauce and tarts and muffins would be delicious and high demand for selling; the sun would burn brightest during sundown; and they, she and Big Mac, would work way into nightfall. The only times it was allowed to be inside was when she needed to use the bathroom, bathe, eat dinner, and sleep.

Having to spend hours on end outside to finish the work applebucking entailed a momentary change in lifestyle: Granny Smith brought them lunch and snacks sometimes; long naps were frown upon, but laying down at the base of an apple tree to rest for a few minutes was understandable; a bucket of water was carried for those moments thirst overpowered them.

And in those moments when thirst came calling and the bucket was empty, there was a pond smack-dab in the middle of the farm, the borderline between the field she was working, and the westside of Sweet Apple Acres where Big Mac was working.

Big Mac...

It had happened the second or third day of applebucking.

She'd worked herself into a good bucking-and-picking groove, only stopping momentarily to open and knot her shirt—the need for cool air on her skin more important than her being annoyed that her breasts were "in the way" and the physical exertion kept her shirt loosening open. Applejack had held back on trying to head on over to the lake to refill her bucket, confident that she could get the apples off of ten more trees, but she had suddenly gave up halfway, the heat of midday and her own dry throat too much to handle. She'd feel better after getting some water.

She had walked over through a particularly thick patch of trees, bucket hitting against her leg, not expecting Big Mac to be there. And when she had heard his voice, she still hadn't minded.

But when she had finally reached the clearing, she had come up to see Big Mac sitting at the base of a tree with his pants open and his...cock out.

Her brother was a good-looking guy, just like their pa had been. Strong with a six-pack and big arms, skin golden-brown and green-eyed with tousled hay-colored hair and five-o-clock shadow, a lover of the same brand of jeans and his crème-colored boots with the red detailing. She knew that Fluttershy at the very least had a crush on him, her shy friend being attracted to his silent nature, and his physical strength had a lot of single women and housewives in Ponyville requesting him for work on their plumbing or repairing their fences. He had a good ethic, was strong, and amirable.

But it was that moment that, for some reason, made her think that maybe his strength that wasn't the reason why those women called on him so often.

His right hand ran up and down his length, his fingers pumping up and down the underside of that big muscle, and his thumb rubbing his pink tip, and the left clenching his shirt. Those green eyes of his were focused on himself, his chest rising and falling quickly, his sweat trickling down his tanned body, and his head thrown back. His hand would speed up and then slow down, his fingers sometimes meeting at the tip, his index rubbing his slit. "Almost. Almost..." He growled out the words and dug in his boot heels and thrusting his hips, his fingers making a ring around his length.

He made a grunt and came, his thick, white cum like a geyser and landing on his stomach and pooling. She hadn't been expecting more to come, and it was still a lot even though the volume not as much as it had been the first time—enough that the image stuck in her mind at that very moment, made her boots root to the spot. Applejack could only stare at the way the last bits he milked out and dribbled down his shaft.

The sight of it, the white color against the tan of his skin, lazily flowing down; the way her tall, silent, almost introverted brother's cock twitched; the sounds of him catching his breath under the lazy fall sun.

He grabbed at his bandana, wiped his sweaty forehead, and stood, straightening himself up and pulling his shirt down, not caring that his own cum was running down his stomach and sticking unto his shirt or his now flaccid dick was still hanging out.. He just walked over to the edge of the pond and dipped his bandana in the water.

The thought that she should've walked away and disappeared at the sight of him wiping himself up. But she hadn't...even though some part of her told her that was bad.

"Shit!" He had jumped back when he realized she was there and zipped himself up quickly with his back turned to her. "Applejack, how long y'been standin there?!"

For some reason, the words didn't come out of her mouth. She just watched him try to situate himself, tucking his white shirt in and stuffing his bandana and the evidence of his private time staining the fabric. He acted so...shy. So nervous, something that he had never been around her before—at least, not that she could ever remember.

She was surprised at everything that she was seeing. Just surprised...not angry or embarrassed about all that she was seeing and knowing she wasn't supposed to. When he finally turned back to her, she couldn't ignore the look on his face and his eyes focus on her, but...not on her...

She looked down to see her shirt still opened, her breasts making its flaps open wide, and her nipples peeking out from the red flannel...hardening

Her hands covered her chest and she turned around and went back the other way, breaking tradition for a glass of water inside the kitchen because she felt like that was how she was supposed to act embarrassed after she had seen her brother touching himself.

She didn't see him for the rest of the day, but when she had closed her eyes, she saw him cumming over and over again.

She didn't really say anything during dinner that night, just sat there red-faced at the table, avoiding his glance.

The next day had her remembering what she had walked up on and distracted. No matter how many times she shook her head to get the images of her brother out her mind, they just kept...coming back to her. When she decided to go to the pond to refill her water, she had treaded softly, almost expecting Big Mac to be there, _touching_ himself again.

She would come to the clearing and find out she'd be half right: she had come when he was finishing up and walking away. If he had heard her arrival, he didn't acknowledge it, just kept walking back to where he had left his work.

She walked over to see where his cum was on the grass.

She had spent another dinner eating in relative silence and then washed up and went to bed like normal, but had had a dream of him. It was more like a memory, back when she had just come back from Aunt and Uncle Orange's place in Manehattan.

She had decided to really work hard those first few weeks back, to prove that she was there to stay and Granny Smith wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. It had been raining really hard for a few days, hard enough that the ground had turned soft and her rainboots would get stuck in the mud whenever she walked out to do stuff—work, make up for running away. Mac had decided to walk out with her to help feed the pigs, even though she had said she could do it herself. She had been so mad that he was helping her and so focused on her work that when he had thrown a mudball at her and it landed on her shirt, she almost lost all her marbles. But then he threw another and another, relentlessly to the point that the only way she could stop him was to throw some back. And then all of a sudden they were in the midst of a mudball fight and their clothes were dirty.

She liked that memory. It let her know that he wasn't angry at her for leaving.

_"We can't go back inside like this,"_ Mac had looked down at himself and then at her, _"otherwise, Granny'd get mad at both of us. ...C'mon." _

They had found the hose and had decided to take turns washing themselves, she first, then him. She had ran the water on herself, rubbing out the spots where the mud was thickest on her clothes and scrubbing out clumps from her hair.

He'd begun scratching himself, the mud making his skin itch. _"Ya think yer done?"_

She hadn't; watching him made her feel itchy too. She'd opened her shirt and begun washing the skin directly, etting the hose water and the rain water make her as clean her tanned skin as best it could. She had started growing breasts when she had gone away, but the change hadn't been enough to make her wear those bras Auntie Orange had bought for her. They were kinda of like a prison, like how Manehattan had felt after awhile. Besides, she liked the feel of there only being cotton on her skin.

And then she had opened up her jeans to get rid of the bits of grass that had washed down her pants. It was no big deal to feel the water traveling down her legs.

But she'd looked up to see Mac staring at her, red in the face.

_"...Give it here."_

She did. Her fingers had trembled for some reason.

He washed the same way she did, rubbing off the dirt and then opening his own shirt. She remembered watching his hand run over his chest. His nipples had been hard from the rain and the cold. And then he had become...shy, something that had never happened before. He had turned away from her and then opened up his pants too. She watched as he pushed his hand down his underwear, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing to clean himself, but then she saw the way he was rubbing and rubbing change. The motions in his hand going between hard and soft and desperate before he had suddenly thrown his head back and moaned.

She swore she saw something white come out from...somewhere.

When he had turned back, pants zipped, she'd looked and seen that he had a bulge that hadn't been there. He'd practically walked past Granny when they gone up back to the house and she had been waiting with towels for them.

And she, she had gone to her room and pulled out a tiny mirror she held, opened her lips up and looked at herself...

She'd woken up, trying to think about what that time back then meant now, and why it had popped into her head.

It had meant something innocent, right? He hadn't been touching himself in front of her, right? And worse, she hadn't been behind him doing it? It was true that it had been awhile back, when she had just learned about the birds and bees and he had changed—his voice getting deeper and him getting taller. Back then, that was innocent, right? Them going back to the ways things had been before she had gone away...him being shy like that. And her just being curious about her body.

But now, when they were older and she had definitely walked up on him? And he hadn't gotten mad, just stared at her and her chest?

It was incest. Or, the beginnings of incest.

But that hadn't stopped the images of his hand touching himself and memories of their hands touching and him being...shy from popping up in her mind next day during work, or when she sat across him at the dinner table and watched him eat his food the way he did, handsome as ever.

Or the next day. And the day after.

On the third day, mixed up between being wanting to see him like that and wanting to watch his reaction and mad because he was avoiding her, she had crossed the pond and walked over to where he was working. And she had worn a thin white t-shirt, the one Granny hated because it didn't hide anything when she was feeling cold or spilled something on it.

He had been in the midst of applebucking, his shirt off and his body moving and sweating when he had suddenly looked back to see her. "Applejack," he had stared at her for a second, before breaking his glance. "what're you doin'?"

She almost forgot what she was doing, her body was acting funny at seeing him. "I came to bring you water." She had brought up the bucket in a way that made it look like some of the water had hit her chest on accident. She had placed it down and begun trying to wipe off to wring out the shirt, gathering the material and twisting it in such a way it showed her stomach and the underside of her breasts.

"Applejack? _Applejack?_" His voice rose a bit.

Her mind was willing to admit that her heart started pounding when she heard his footsteps coming at him.

But he seemed to be restraining himself. "...You need my bandana?"

"Is it clean?"

He knew what she was talking about and blushed a little.

She took it anyway and began gathering it in her hand, pressing it on her shirt, tossing her ponytail shoulder to shoulder and biting her lip, like how Rarity did whenever she wasn't sure about something she was wearing or didn't like and debated about wanting to change it.

She could feel his eyes trying and failing to not train themselves on her.

"Do you 'member that time we were in the rain and washing off the mud?" She asked absently as she ran her hand down her shirt to wipe between her breasts. Her nipples were hard again.

"...Listen, keep it. I gotta to do...somethin..."

He answered her question about six hours later, when dinner was about to start and she had walked in the bathroom to wash her hands and to change her shirt, as per Granny Smith's demand.

"Yeah...I do." He sounded a bit braver in the confines of their bathroom. "Applejack, it was jes puberty back then. Ah wasn't in control...and your body was changin and I noticed that, alright? Ah, shouldn't've done it. But, are you doin this cuz you caught me at the pond the other day?"

"No...Ah don't know." She pointed to the hand towel beside him and watched as he grabbed it and handed over to her.

Their fingers touched again and she felt that electricity again.

"...If, if, if that's why yer actin like some of the ladies around town when they try to seduce me, please. Jes stop."

"Those ladies try to seduce you?"

"Yes. But it never works when they do it. They," his hand ran through his hair, "come out in dresses and skirts or sometimes heels and bend down when they water their plants to show me their butts, or ask me if I want something to drink so Ah can come inside their house. Almost all of em do it."

She didn't know why she didn't just let alone then, but she had spoken. Her heart was beating really quick. "..._Ah'm_ not doing any of that stuff though."

"...No, yer not." He said that like it was a problem.

She heard the way it sounded and stared at him. She felt her skin get hot.

He didn't have a comeback then. He left.

Maybe it was because he had admitted it, or because she was curious about what exactly she was doing because but she kept doing whatever it was she thought was setting him off. Coming up to the pond with her opened shirt, running water down her body. And he kept watching her do it.

Their work finally had them in each other's view from their respective sides of the farm, the clearing where the pond was their boarder. They had reached the last few days when applebucking needed to be done really fast so that things were perfect. She kept watching him buck and gather apples, the muscles in his body stretching and moving and bulging. And she wore her buttoned shirts tied up to show her stomach and opened to show her naked chest.

Finally, on the last day, she seemed to have finally gotten the reaction she was looking for. The day had been hot and the wind was blowing in a way that wasn't satisfying her. She had loosened the knot in her shirt and opened it, flapping it, exposing the air to her sweaty skin and pink nipples and relishing the relief with closed eyes.

He had announced his presence with heavy footsteps and she looked up to see him shirtless. "What do you want from me?"

"...Ah don't know..."

"...Think of something...We're only gonna do this once. And never again."

"Do whatever it is you think those ladies want you to do."

"...Ah'm not gonna kiss ya. Yer mah sister."

"...Then do something _else_ you think they want you to do."

He walked up to her and began touching her skin, running his hand over her neck and chest and down her stomach and up again. She grabbed his other wrist and placed his hand on her breast. He gripped the flesh and moved his other hand to touch the other. His thumbs passed over her nipples, sweeping back and forth until they hardened. And then he pinched.

She moaned, feeling the jolts it sent up her body.

He moved his hands away from her, but she reached out and gripped his jeans bringing him back close. He tried to move, but she led his footsteps and had his back pressing against the tree trunk and her front against his. Her hands touched his chest and his nipples and his abs, loving the feel of them as his body stiffened and he started drawing in tight breaths.

"Just relax...close yer eyes, McIntosh." She coached him. "Pretend...Ah'm someone else or somethin."

"I can't. I know it's you." But his eyes closed anyway and his breathing gradually relaxed. "Jes...don't speak."

His hands reached behind her, over her back, practically gliding over and lightly scratching her skin. "Soft...strong..."

Her face reddened at the praise.

He moved to fully take off her shirt fully and touched her naked back before coming around the front and touching her breasts again. His touch was rougher this time around.

She felt something poking her bellybutton. There was a bulge in his pants.

Her hand hesitated but then steeled itself and opened the button to his jeans. Her fingers then moved to the tab to his zipper sliding it down. He wore dark green boxer briefs, and there was a wet spot in the front and movement underneath the cotton.

Her fingers gripped the elastic band and pulled it down. His cock, framed by coarse, but trimmed blonde curls, bobbed and twitched, giving her more little pokes, the wet tip putting a thin trail of precum on skin, below her bellybutton.

Her hand touched it, feeling the wet, stickiness on her fingers. Her finger traced over the slit on the head and kept going across the underside of his shaft. She reached the base and brushed against his sack before grasping him completely and slid her hand back to the front. He felt hot but the skin was soft and velvety, and he throbbed so hard it was like feeling a heartbeat in her hands. She continued going up and down over and over, giving special attention to the head, rubbing it with her thumb and index and feeling that hot whiteness on her fingers. The sight of it running down her skin reminded her of the way vanilla ran over her fingers as it melted down the cone.

"Mmmmm," he moaned. His hands ran their way down her back again and gripped her ass, digging his hands in her back pockets and squeezing. His head rested in the crook of her neck and shoulder and his breathing felt hot and sounded ragged.

_Open mah shirt,_ she wanted to tell him, but elected to follow the only set of directions he had given her, feeling her nipples dragging and pressing into his hard chest.

His hands slid over her sides and trailed around, reaching to where her own belt buckle was, pulling and loosening the garment and then practically ripping open the button to her jeans and yanking the zipper down. His hands pulled the denim down and then gripped the elastic to the white cotton panties she wore and pulled it down inch by inch.

She didn't stop him and sighed as she felt his hand on her bare ass. She didn't ask him if _this_ is what he thought those old ladies wanted from him. His hands slid between her cheeks and gripped and lightly slapped her ass, making the flesh jiggle. When he spread her apart, she felt the air touch her pussy, invasive but cool and welcomed. Applejack moaned and jutted her hips back to make it easier to feel that coolness. His fingers reached her pussy and she felt his middle fingers between her lips, doing their best to bury themselves inside of her. One finger reached inside of her.

"Ah!" Her hands gripped his shoulders.

The digit wedged itself deeper, moved out, and then went back inside. Over and over again.

"You're getting wet." He whispered.

A slick and sloppy sound could be heard growing more pronounced.

Her toes curled in her cowboy boots when she felt another finger join the first and twist inside her. She felt her liquids trail out of her and down her thigh.

"Mmmm, oh! Ah! Oooohhh, Celestia." She felt him hit a certain spot and quivered and tightened around him, not letting go and her back arching, a white light bursting to pieces in her mind. She practically fell to her knees when he pulled out, it had felt so good.

"Are ya okay?"

"...Uh-huh..." She felt a breeze on her skin now.

Her brother gathered her in his arms, to keep her from falling over, his hand on the underside of her ass, his wet fingers on the back of her thighs. His shoulder was the perfect pillow.

"Can you still stand? Do you need a break? Ah don't wanna push ya."

"Ah'm fine...why?"

"...It's mah turn."

It was. She could feel him against her leg, more of his precum rubbing along her skin. "Okay. Ah'm ready."

He turned them around so she was against the tree, her breasts pressed against the bark. "Hug the tree...okay. Spread your legs a little." His his fingers gave her thighs the lightest of touches. "...Good." His fingers spread her open again and she felt his eyes on her. She felt her insides quiver as every second of him looking at her increased. "Ah'm not gonna go inside."

She strained to look back at him. "Yer not?"

"Ah've been cumming a little. Ah came just now."

"Ah didn't feel it." Her hand ran down her body, until in fact, she felt the stickiness on her triangle of hair. "Oh."

"Yeah." He gripped her hips and neared her.

She felt something sliding underneath her awkwardly, hot and throbbing, right against her lips. McIntosh's cock. It slid in between her legs with little to no effort and slid back out just as easily. She was still wet in between.

"Lift your hips up.."

She obeyed and felt cold air again and then his cock on her pussy lips again, this time the heat much more noticeable. She looked down to see what was going on. The head peaked out and went back in. She loved the look of it, that pink tip peaking out and then hiding between her thighs. And she liked the feel of her brother speeding up and slowing down behind and under her, sliding and slapping skin to skin, massaging her back and breathing in stuccato.

The next time the head peaked out, she saw a white sliver spit out of it and the glob hit the tree trunk and drip down. Her hand stopped it from disappearing again and she trailed a finger over the slit again and rubbed against the thickness between his legs, to help him cum.

"Ahhh! Applejack...fuck!" He slid back against her lips and then back again, pausing long enough for her to touch and then going back in again, changing the rhythm.

Her hand caught more of the cum and felt it slide through her fingers.

"I'm...I'm cumming. Fuck!"

With a final grunt, he did just that hugging her around the front. On her hand, on the tree trunk, on the grass. She felt it marked across her inner thighs. He leaned above her, using the tree trunk as a stand, trying to get his breath back. He freed himself from her legs, but rested his cock on her back and she felt more of his trailing cum on her ass.

She remained hugging the tree as she felt him straighten them up, putting back on her panties and fastening her jeans for her. And he moved to do the same for himself, putting his cock back inside his jeans. His hands wiped her sweaty back.

"...We can't do that again."

Applejack didn't speak in agreement. After that, after experiencing that with him, after already crossing the line with her, touching her like that, her body remembering his touch, how could she not do it again with him?

Why lie to herself?

Maybe she could ask him to do it again next year, during the next Applebuck Season.

Yeah...that sounded good...

* * *

_This took so long because I couldn't get past the brother-sister dynamic, but I feel like ApplejackxBigMac pairings pop up from time to time, so I tried my hand at it. I really had to think of a way to make Applejack's steady moral compass and responsibility waver for this one. That was another challenge._

_I think while no cherries were popped, it came out well. _


	4. Decisions, Decisions

**My Little Pony: Tryst & Fantasies**

Ficclets of our favorite Mane 6, both fantasies and reality. AU. HUMAN.

Rating: M

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my computer and an imagination._

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_Decisions, Decisions_

Fluttershy believed that there was someone for everyone, that everyone had someone out there that they'd one day meet and be in love with for forever. But, she also believed that it would take her a very long time to find her own oh-so-special someone.

She wasn't as quiet as she had been before she had met Twilight Sparkle and everybody, but she was still pretty quiet. Not to mention guys were behind most of the teasing she had received when she was younger, and then when her body was developing, most of the unwanted attention she had gotten came from those same boys. It was all so very confusing and upsetting. And it didn't help that she knew that they started paying attention to her because her body wasn't like most of the other girls'—her breasts were a C-cup; she had hips and curves. So in the end, she preferred to think that her love would come in the form of a clandestine meeting.

And then Redwood and Oakland came along, the brothers that had moved from Fillydelphia to Ponyville to start a construction business.

Twin brothers.

_Identical_ twin brothers.

Redwood had safely returned Angel to her arms after he had escaped from his rabbit carrier. And then she had met Oakland a few hours later at their welcome party.

One minute it had been her going: "Huh? Today at the marketplace? Angel, that's his name, he got out of his carrier and you helped me put him back and tie up his cage."

He shook his head, lost. "Sorry. That wasn't me...maybe it was my brother. Well, my _twin_, Redwood. He had gone to the square today for food."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Broth—?"

"Oh, Flut-ter-shy! _Yoo-hoo!_ You just _have_ to meet Redwood, the newest, nicest guy ever! He's one of the twins—oh! You've met Oakland!" The shy girl looked over to see the voluptuous hostesses Pinkie Pie half-bouncing over to her with her hands latched around a guy half-trailing behind her. His eyes flashed with friendly recognition, and she just _knew_ it was the guy she had met before.

Identical twins. The guy she had met, dressed in a buttoned shirt with a coordinating bowtie, and his brother in the leather jacket. Same cinnamon-colored skin and hazel eyes, height, haircut, build. It was the biggest surprise of the night once everyone else caught on.

They had only been in Ponyville for a few weeks and already had a lot of business lined up: Cherilee wanted a new jungle gym for the school playground; Mr. and Mrs. Cake needed a new roof for Sugarcube Corner soon; and about another dozen other requests—from single girls and housewives mostly—for the installment of a few fences.

And yet, she felt like she had gained a monopoly of their time after her chicken-wire fence caved in. No sooner had she had called to make an appointment, the two of them had appeared at her front door, dressed identically in white dirt-stained, sweat-soaked shirts, jeans, and boots.

"I breezed through everything I had to do already, and I'm here to fix your fence," Oakland said, holding up his toolbox. "He's," he pointed to Redwood, "here to carry stuff."

"Uh, no. I'm here to check out your place because you said you take in a lot of animals. Maybe you need some more spaces built for them."

"Oh...okay. L, let's go to the back," she turned around and led the way. She wasn't exactly sure how she had survived them being in the backyard for the rest of the afternoon, watching them mess with their tools and receiving smiles and winks for giving them water, but she had.

And then Redwood arrived on her doorstep a few days later, inspired by some books on birds nests he had read to make her a large bird nest to accommodate them all, she had agreed. They had spent another afternoon, learning how to weave dried willow branches. She had blushed every time his hands held hers to help her.

And a few days later, she had come across Oakland in the marketplace making up plans for the jungle gym structure and then found herself being lead to the highest point in Ponyville—the town hall roof balcony—and stare at everything down below.

And then Redwood started coming by whenever he didn't have anything pressing to do and walk along the edge of Everfree Forest and go exploring.

But then she and Oakland had started doing this thing where he'd bump into her and drag her to this cool place he found, which was really somewhere she had been a thousand times, but he always went into detail about something he noticed in the design.

In just a few short weeks, she had encountered them practically everywhere it would be possible, and while most of Ponyville was still trying to figure out who was who, she could already tell: Oakland was the older of the two, but Redwood was taller; Redwood had a little mole underneath his right eyebrow and wore rubber bands on his wrist; Oakland's face was slightly more narrow and he had a scratch on his collarbone.

And then she sort of realized that she had a crush on the both of them.

She and Redwood had been working on the finishing touches of the bird nest when she had this one piece that wouldn't tie right. "If I could just..." she was standing tip-toe on a step ladder and trying to loop one piece of string, failing, and becoming more annoyed with strands of her pink hair falling over her eye and fearful of her dress getting snagged...

"Whoa—wait! Fluttershy, I said you didn't have to do that one. I got it." She felt the weight of his body on the step ladder's first step and then saw his hands reach said piece easily and do what she had been trying to do.

She felt the front of his body against her back and her face burned up. She knew his work kept him in shape, but...he was _really_ in shape. Her body broke out in a cold sweat as she became aware that he had tied the knot, but hadn't moved away from her, he smelled really good, and his hands were on her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" His voice was...really deep then.

"Yes!" She squeaked out and made a motion that she wanted to get down. But she wasn't able to; she wouldn't stop staring at him.

Redwood had given her a smile and then reached out to cup her chin. One minute, his thumb was running across her bottom lip and in the next, it had been replaced by his lips. They were soft. And the way he kissed her...it was slow and careful, but sure, willing to give her as much control as she wanted.

He had pulled away with a smirk.

She had kissed Oakland the very next day. They had been walking in the marketplace together, when she became aware of a few angry glares sent her way by another girl, one of the girls she recognized from their welcome party. Just as she was starting to get a bit uncomfortable, Oakland had wrapped his arm around Fluttershy's shoulders and pulled her in close. Very close.

"Uh, uh...Oakland...you don't have to.

"...I know I don't, but she doesn't have the right to be mean to you like that...and I know you're not going to say anything because you don't wanna to fight."

"Well...I..." Her face turned pink as she felt his hand ghost across her shoulders and down her back to grab her hand.

"Is that better?" His fingers interlocked with hers. He didn't really let her answer as he let go of her hand and then cupped her face to kiss her. He didn't act like his brother, letting her lead. It was all she could do to not pass out at the feel of his tongue running over her lips and pulling and sucking her bottom lip, or his fingers in her hair.

When they finally had pulled away, she could only grip the front of his shirt to steady herself. She didn't really look up to see if she was getting any looks anymore; she felt too lightheaded.

By the time she was willing to accept what had happened with the both of them and that she had a crush on both of them, they had appeared on her doorstep.

The reason for their visit was simple: they both liked her too, and this was a pretty big deal for them because they had never liked the same girl at the same time before. And they were already competing for her by hanging out with her as much as they had been, but they weren't able to come to a conclusion about which one of them should be allowed to date her. And they knew she couldn't very well date both of them.

They wanted her to decide.

"We're not going to show up as much as we have been—to give you space to think," Oakland had said.

"And you don't have to worry about our feelings. If you choose one, the other will just have to be okay with it."

"It's okay. You can do this. Call us when you're ready."

They said goodnight. They both kissed her again, two really amazing kisses that only helped make her more confused.

"What am I gonna do?" She asked Rarity during their monthly spa day two days later.

"You're asking me?"

"You're the only one I can think to talk to about this because you seem like you'd more about it than Twilight or anyone else."

"I suppose that may be true. Hmm..." Rarity took off the cucumbers from her eyes. "Well, Fluttershy, you _did_ kiss both of them. Did you like one kiss more than the other?"

"N-not exactly." She tried to curl up as best she could in her spa bathrobe. "The way they kissed me...I liked them in different ways, but it only confused things. ...I really haven't be able to come up with a way one would would top the other. Redwood's kiss was soft and gentle; he does things sweetly. And Oakland...he's much more forward than I am; he makes everything seem really...exciting. Even his kisses are like that.

"What am I gonna do?!"

Rarity sat up from her recliner and turned to Fluttershy, brushing back any stray hairs that would stick to the mud mask on her face. "...You don't get excited about guys very often, Fluttershy. In fact, since I've known you, this is the only time I think I've really heard you talk about a guy you like—let alone two.

"I say, don't turn them down. Ask yourself this question: If you had think about which one you'd want to be with a year or two down the road, who would it be? And then really think about it. Think about every aspect you think goes into a relationship and imagine them both trying to fulfill it."

"But I did. Our first date, our hanging out together...I even imagined what would be like to marry one and then the other."

One of her eyebrows rose. "And did you imagine..._you know_..." With her left thumb and index finger, she made a circle and then pushed her right finger through over and over again.

Fluttershy couldn't figure out what she meant, but when she did, her face turned red. "Y,y,y, you mean...?"

"Yes. That _is_ part of e_very_ aspect."

"But, but...shouldn't I consider," her voice dropped down to a whisper, "sex, when I'm with them. I should at least be in love with them."

"I'm not saying you have to have sex with them Fluttershy. It's just, if you've thought about just about _everything_, and still can't come to a decision, maybe you _should_ think about having sex with them. It's probably the only way they're truly different from one another. And maybe then you'll realize something."

Fluttershy couldn't deny that Rarity had a point, but it took her the rest of the day to admit that it was a good idea aloud, and even longer to decide to take her friend's advice. She finally decided that it was a perfect time to try it—the dead of night—and proceeded to settle in her favorite chair and think...that way.

She didn't know how long it took her to stop focusing on the ticking of her clock or the sounds of an unhappy Angel bouncing around in his cage, but eventually she won against fighting her urge to hop out of the chair.

She thought about Redwood.

"_I'm, I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous, that's all." She had been sure that she was ready. It had been six months, she knew she liked every minute they spent with one another. And she was ready, but...had cold feet._

_It didn't help that she was in her underwear and he wasn't wearing anything at all._

"_It's okay. If you want us to stop, I—"_

"_No! No...I really do." _

"_Okay...Here." He grabbed her hand and placed it on his shoulder. And then he grabbed her wrist and moved her over his body. "Just do that for now."_

_He felt amazing. His chest. His arms. And her hands...they looked so pale against his cinnamon-colored skin. She had grown more comfortable with his body and the sight of her hands on her body, which didn't explain why she gasped when her hands slid past his waist and she felt him. "S-sorry."_

"_No. No, that's okay." He held her wrists and kept her touch in place. "Touch me some more."_

_She did. He felt hard and hot._

_She was naked and was being placed in her bed by Redwood's strong hands with every kiss he gave her being met in earnest. When she felt her legs being parted, she looked down and began to blush. But she wasn't nervous. _

"_Is it going to hurt?"_

_He looked down at her with those hazel eyes and smiled. "Only for a little bit. ...Just trust me, Fluttershy. I love you."_

"_I do trust you."_

_He pushed inside her._

She blushed, and opened her eyes for a second and looked around. She went and grabbed dinner and ate every bite slowly. She sat back in her chair and focused her mind again.

And she thought of Oakland.

_She laid on the bed still and silent as he began to undress her, grabbing the tab of her zipper and pulling it down, and rolling down her stockings. The feel of his hand on hers, the warm and electric feeling he gave her...she could feel it all over her body. She didn't hold back as she felt her bra clasp come free and her panties were slid down her legs. _

"_Undress me now." Oakland murmured._

"_I, Is it going to hurt?" She asked, daring to open her eyes. _

"_A little...but it won't hurt too much. Just let me lead. I promise you'll feel good."_

"_It's okay. Tell me when you feel better." His fingers brushed away the bubble-gum pink locks of hair that covered her eye. _

_He slid in and out of her again and again and again, his mouth kissing the crook of her neck. _

"_Are you okay?" He asked, breathily. _

"Oh, oh no..." Fluttershy shook her head and stood up. She walked around the room a bit, but didn't go back to the chair—she couldn't bare it. "Why? Why is this so hard? I don't under—"

And then, suddenly, like it had during her conversation with Rarity, she did understand.

The difficulty in making this decision, it went beyond which one was better.

...There was nothing left for her to do now except call them tomorrow.

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In the end, she decided not to pick either of them.

They had seemed disappointed when she had told them her decision, and from the way they hugged her, part of her knew that she wouldn't be seeing them too often anymore. And she wished she could make them understand that to her, if she couldn't think about being intimate with them and be comfortable with that part, it meant that she realized for the first time that she still wasn't ready yet.

But maybe, maybe that was okay because it meant that one day she would find the guy meant for her. Just one guy that she would be comfortable with. And it wouldn't take too much longer.

She liked to believe that that was true.

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_A/N: This took a long time because writing Fluttershy in a sex scene is damn near impossible. She's way too cute and innocent and in recognizing that, I tried to make sure the writing reflected that: while you have two sex scenes, they're short and they jump around a lot; there's not a lot of detail that I could add. I think that separates it from what I did with Rainbow Dash; while Rainbow can imagine being with two people at once in detail, Fluttershy is much more innocent about it._


End file.
